Queen of Love and Beauty
by Gillette-x
Summary: "The fairest horse-woman, daughter of a wolf, looked into the eyes of a red eyed man, and Death fell in love with her. Queen of love and beauty, beautiful, wilful and death before her time." GendryxAryaxJaqen - Arya/Lyanna comparison
1. Part I

**Queen of love and beauty**

**.**

**Part I: Beautiful, wilful, and death before her time**

**.**

_The fairest horse-woman, daughter of a wolf, looked into the eyes of a red eyed man. And Death fell in love with her. Queen of love and beauty; beautiful, wilful, and dead before her time._

**Beautiful**

**.**

The first and only time Robert Baratheon sees Arya properly, is at the trial for the dire wolf's attack to Joffrey. His heart skips a beat when he focuses on her fierce eyes, and he instantly acknowledges why Arya is Ned's favourite daughter. She's rough, still an ugly child, but Lyanna's essence is strongly concentrated in her being. A deep, unhealed wound opens in his heart again, and he prays for this girl not to become as fair as her aunt, as not to drive any more kingdoms to war.

Cercei's face grows pale when she sees her husband's stare fixed upon the little girl. She recognizes that look, she never knew Lyanna or her legendary beauty, but she knows all too well the expression of love in her husband's eyes every time he remembers her. That same love she once tried to fix upon herself; that same love that, in the end, only caused her to loathe him. Hate starts to boil in her already dark heart. She wants the girl punished, wants her executed, before she can develop that deadly fairness which drove her husband and her to ruin.

Neither Cersei nor Robert acknowledge that from the moment they both look into the girl's eyes, a shadow is cast upon them. Through their suffering eyes someone else sees the girl. The god of death, and he now has his stare fixed upon her.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

A man under the name of Syrio Forell looks into Arya's eyes. And chills run down his spine. She's not that beautiful, yet. She's more like a rough type, skinny and long-faced, she looks like a boy. But a man can see the truth and it frightens him. There is something in her eyes which frightens him, the essence of a woman whose name he cannot remember. A rare beauty of the north, bride of death, her fairness destroyed a whole reign of dragons, moved innumerable armies to a war and left a nation in ruins.

A man suddenly acknowledges what he's doing there, why fate has brought him to King's Landing, to the King's court, in front of this sublime creature. He suddenly acknowledges why he has grown fond of her, in a way a man like him is not allowed to. He suddenly acknowledges of the betrayal he's about to commit against the god he once promised to serve, and he doesn't care, because deep inside he knows there is one way it started, and one way it has to end. His words may change her fate and thus, he gives her a gift: the gift of life.

"There is only one god, his name is death. And what do we say to the god of death? _**Not today.**_"

Syrio's betrayal costs him his life.

**.**

**Wilful**

**.**

"The Red God has his due, sweet girl, _**and only death may pay for life.**_" A man under the name of Jaqen H'ghar knows from the moment he whispers those words to her that he's not just talking about the three deaths he promised her. And he's happy to acknowledge she does not understand the true meaning of his words.

A man sees, a man hears, a man knows. He's lived a thousand lives under the faces of a thousand men and he knows the god he serves, he knows him all too well. The Red God is one of the most blessing and dangerous gods on earth. When he is the right god, he acts by his own means, giving the gift to people who deserve it, keeping the balance of the world in a perfect state. But when he's blinded, things go shady, violent, and chaotic. He doesn't stop, killing whoever stands in his way, no matter if he's right or wrong, he's just blinded by the desire of possession. The object of his desire can be any person, a child who shouldn't have been born, an old king who refuses to die, or a woman who is too beautiful for her own good. And once he's got it, he will stop, like nothing happened, and life will return to the land.

A man knows why the Red God is not satisfied, a man sees the object of the god's desire standing right in front of him. She is still too young, dirty, bruised, she doesn't catch the eye of grown men of boys. But men and boys are often simple, and he's not a simple man. He can see her beauty growing clearer and wilder with every single day that passes. And he smiles to himself for he has fulfilled his duty. He has found the bride of death, and he hopes with her in the God's arms, things go back to normal.

Still, things turn stormy for him too, as he silently watches her pray and suffer. He watches her every night she runs away from her sleeping spot and dances among branches and leaves of a dying tree. He sees in her a deep desire, the desire of life and family, of love... of defeating the Red God and say "not today", live forever. And he knows he is as doomed as Syrio Forell. He falls in love with his own victim; he falls in love with her desire of life.

"Gods are not mocked, lovely girl." _And yet, here you are_. He decides to fulfil his duty, one more name in her lips, and she'll be the Red God's. "Jaqen H'ghar", and he witnesses in panic he's not standing in front of deaths pray; he's standing in front of deaths defeater. He knows she will eventually have him unnamed, so he tries to convince her to go back on the path he wants, ready to stab her silently in that same place if she refuses. It is when she mentions those words to him, "A friend would help me... I would never kill a friend." That he knows he's lost the battle against himself. _Then a man won't be your friend_, he thinks with a smile and he does as she pleases. He frees an army that should have been executed, and he knows he has betrayed the Red God, but he isn't as doomed as Syrio yet. No, he can redeem himself. A girl doesn't have to die to belong to the Red God. And he knows exactly how to give her that gift.

He gives her a coin and teaches her the words she needs. He looks one last time into her wild eyes and prays he won't fall in dismay for her. _If you want to fight death so fiercely, then fine. But first you'll learn, sweet girl, and a man won't be your friend, a man will be your man._ "Don't go Jaqen." She pledges, and he smiles. "Jaqen is dead. Now say it again, Valar Morghulis." She repeats it and he changes his face. "Farewell, Arya Stark."

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

Even after she is taken by the Hound, Gendry remembers her. And for the rest of his young years, he lays to sleep with her image on his mind. He remembers her as a strong, stubborn, annoying little thing. He remembers he has loved. Loved her with that first lightening, warm fire of what they call "first love".

He remembers her like a breath of life, filling him with joy and hope he's thought he's lost on his long days at Harrenhall, he remembers her, unreachable. "That's right, I'm too low-born to be in any way related to you." and on the nights he isn't able to sleep he imagines her in his arms. He imagines he's just holding her against himself. Feeling the scent of her skin and listening to her calm breathing as she sleeps.

"For you shall be _**my lady love**_ and I shall be your lord; I'll always keep you warm and safe and guard you with my sword."

**.**

**Dead before her time**

**.**

"How many? How many? How many?"

When the Hound looks into Arya's hardened expression, he feels a pang in his heart. She reminds him of his self, innocence shattered in its flowering, corrupting what was once a good heart. He can see there's no salvation for her now. The God of Death has accomplished his goal; he has leaded her to her doom.

_Even a dog gets tired of being kicked. And when he does, he attacks his master and eats him alive._

His fears about the little bitch are confirmed once he pledges her to kill him. He sees it in her eyes. Hate, the apathy of a dark heart that doesn't care for death. She leaves him there to die.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

Arya remembers her father telling her that when the cold wind blows, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. "He had it all backwards." She thinks. Arya, the lone wolf, still lives, but the wolves of the pack have been taken and slain and skinned.


	2. Part II

Thanks for the reviews... erm... I didn't know wether I should put the whole damn story I have in my mind, but I guess I'm gonna, so, I hope you like it. I actually writte awfully... so... If you don't mind about that, I hope you still enjoy the story.

So this chapter is completely AryaxJaqen in case you were wondering...

* * *

**Queen of love and beauty**

**.**

**Part II: A crying bride, lying on a bed of blood, waiting for the shadows to arrive**

_._

_The red god takes what is his, and only death may pay for life. A newborn's light in the arms of a three-headed dragon born of salt; a crying bride, lying on a bed of blood, waiting for the shadows to arrive._

_._

**A newborn's light**

**.**

_"Who are you?" the girl asks. A boy with the eyes of an old man looks at her._

_"A three-eyed crow." He answers. And she doesn't know whether he is telling her the truth. "And you are a wounded deer."_

_"True." She states._

_"I've seen you in my dreams, but whether you are a great blessing or a terrible doom, I cannot know." She widens in horror._

_"What you mean?"_

_"The Others are coming for you. And if they catch you, Westeros falls. You are Valyria's horn, a horn that will pierce the Wall and kill the gods of war. It is up to us, lone wolves, to decide your faith." The boy took her hand in his. "I am the first wolf, and there's only two left. So fear not, my shadow-faced deer. As long as I have you, I will protect you."_

Shireen wakes up from her dream with an uneasy feeling in her heart. She's never had a vision like this before; in fact, she's never had a vision, or even thought she'd have one. She gets out of bed and walks across the room to the only small window in her stone tower. It's a full moon night and she thinks she can hear a thousand wolf's howls.

The image of the boy with eldest eyes remains clear in her mind.

**.**

**A three-headed dragon born of salt**

**.**

Dany wrinkles her nose, wondering what this new vision means. She has seen a burning wolf, emerging from a wall of melted ice, and a golden burning gryphon walking across a sea of burning grass taller than him.

She's also seen a dying bride in a bed of blood, screaming trough a hurricane of blue petals of dying flowers. And the same bride, riding across a storm of snow, with a carriage pulled by four deer with golden antlers.

**.**

**A crying bride**

**.**

Many men have died for her, by her own hand, protecting her. Names and faces she remembers. Men she sheds her tears for. Men and women she wants dead. Memories and thoughts grow harder to remember every single day she spends at the House of Black and White. "Nymeria, Syrio, Father, Bran, Rickon, Winterfell, Robb, Mother, Arya... **_I was a wolf._** **_Now I am no one._**"

And sometimes she just wakes up in the death of night, and cries until she falls asleep again. She's no longer Arya, she's no longer her family, she's no longer home.

She's caged inside death's claws. A bride of blood, she's death's bride.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

Nymmeria and her pack run across the wild woods beyond the Wall. The moon watches their ride and they howl in complete worship to their goddess. Some alpha male try to court the great female Direwolf, but she fights them away, leaving bloody bruises in their fur and raw scars in their faces. The pack smashes a young pray, bathing in it's warm blood. Arya can feel the euphoria, the instinct. Blood on her mouth, strong claws tearing skin to peaces, the taste of raw meat swallowed by her throat.

In her dreams, Arya is free. Her spirit travels into Nymmeria's body, and it runs beyond Death's reach.

**.**

**Lying on a bed of Blood**

**.**

She looks into a man's eyes and recognizes the one who has made her who she is. _A girl was once a mouse; **a man made her a ghost**._ She's no longer that girl, she's no one, but she remembers him, and her heart skips a beat.

He has the same face he had when she first met him, Jaqen H'ghar's face. But he is no longer Jaqen H'ghar. He is the human face of the Red God. His hair is red as blood and white as bone. His face is beautiful and mysterious, his eyes hard and cold. He smells of blood and ginger. He's tall, handsome; the whole world seems to hold its breath in his presence. There's no light in his eyes. He's death itself, a man as cold as a corpse, as tactless as a massacre.

"A man of Blood" she calls him. He looks at her.

"Just so." He answers. And she knows from that moment she's doomed for him.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

He frightens and amazes her at the same time. And she doesn't know how to attack or how to run away. She knows it's the first time a man has been able to make her tremble with just one whisper. She knows it's the first time a man's touch has made her numb. She wonders if he can see it in her eyes, her desire for him. And he does. He sees, and hears, and knows.

He strikes her quietly one night, wakes her up with a hand on her mouth, drowning any possible screams.

"A girl may pretend to be no one. But a man sees the truth." A girl widens and looks at the faceless shadow in front of her. "A girl never quitted the wolf when she became faceless. A man knows, my lady of Stark." Panic overtakes her actions and she tries to strike him with a knife. A strong hand stops it and makes her drop it. He leads her hand to his lips and puts two fingers on them. "A man says nothing, a man keeps his mouth shut; no one hears. And only lovers may know the secret."

She wonders if it's just a trick from the Kindly Man, but for some reason she feels she has to trust him. She still doesn't understand his words very well, but she nods, sealing the promise, and a man leans in, and kisses her.

She feels so frail and docile in his arms as he kindly pushes her to lay on the bed... she's never liked feeling like that. She likes to be the strong one, but for some reason now she doesn't even care. She lets go of the air she's holding in her chest has he unties her dress and exposes her skin completely. Slow kisses trail down her neck to her chest and stomach. He takes her time, touching and tasting every inch of her skin. He foccuses on the most sensitive parts, her neck, her breasts, the center of her legs, and she gasps involuntarily. She's in a haze, a trance of delirium which can only overtake a creature who hasn't felt the touch of a gentle hand in years.

She entwines her legs in his hips, driving his naked body closer to her, breathing hard from the sensation of his warm skin against hers. She's so wet and warm and ready for him. He holds her in his arms, as if wanting to burn her naked skin. He buries his face in her neck and starts slowly pulling inside of her, making her hiss with discomfort. A little pang inside of her is all she feels something break and widen. Altough she's gone trough much worse kinds of pain, she . He kisses her again, sliping his tongue in her mouth and starts sliding in and out of her. For a moment all she can feel is pain and discomfort, then she feels the first pang of a pleasing vibration in her lower belly. She starts to moan, and opens her legs a little more to help him thrust her deeper. He rides her fiercely till her throat howls his name in extacy.

She falls asleep in his arms. She's like a pearl of winter, clear and cold and mortal. And looking at her, a man swears to protect her till death. Now he knows why Lyanna's beauty drew a kingdom to its doom. And he's sure, he must feel exactly the same way Rhaegar felt, when he had that wilful flower in his arms.

Sinfull, proud joy, and guilty fear of what may the odds do to the whole world for one single desire of a man.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

Their love is ravaging, confusing. Like a deadly antidote that causes more pain than the actual poison. Was she still who she once was, she would be able to avoid it. But she keeps quiet and receives it, because she knows it's the only thing that can keep "Arya" alive. She feels as if every time she lay with him, she recovered a piece of her humanity.

As he kisses her tenderly, running his hands through her body, touching every single inch of her; as he's inside her, making her moan in delirium, she's no longer an assassin, she's a woman, she's his woman. And she wants it to never end. "There's no end between me and you." She falls asleep cradled to his chest, hoping that dream could last forever. It doesn't. The bliss of the night vanishes as soon as dawn breaks through the window. She always wakes up alone; sometimes she's still awake when he leaves. He feels her silent rage, and he doesn't seem to care. The worst thing: in the morning she meets his eyes again, but there's no love in them. A man with a thousand faces, none is real, none can be trusted. Sometimes he's just gone, and she spends her nights alone, waiting restless for him to arrive.

She has never hated and loved anything so much in her entire life; a storm of emotions she tries to control in order not to drive any suspicion. And still, when Jaqen looks into her eyes, she sees the truth. "Sônonûmio, you know a man would kill a thousand men for you." and she knows he's telling her the truth; she takes his face in her hands and kisses him.

**.**

**Waiting for the shadows to arrive**

**.**

She wakes up one night, tears burning her face, trailing down her cheeks. She's seen her brother Jon, stabbed a hundred times, his corpse over a pyre ready to be lightened. She's seen Rickon, crying blood, dragged by a man of ice. And in the end, Bran's frightened eyes. "Come home, Arya. Please, come back."

She wipes her tears away and gets out of her sleeping cell, runs through the corridors till she reaches for the main staircase. She pushes a loose stone aside and sees her, for the first time after almost three years. She's thin, light and silver. Needle in hand, every single memory that could have been lost during her training returns to her.

"NeedleJonWinterfellDaBranRickonMotherSansaRobbNym eriaStickThemWithThePointyEnd".

Eyes swell and her chest feels like it's going to explode. Fifteen years of her life have suddenly runned in front of her eyes, and she's Arya Stark again, holding Needle in her hand, telling Jon she's going to miss him and fighting branches of trees with a wooden stick. She backs away covering her mouth as if not to howl in pain.

His father was right, winter has ravaged her in such a way, and she almost killed the wolf inside her. She thanks every single god existing for bringing her that dream that has made her realize. She holds Needle to her chest and cries silently, like she hasn't done it in years.

The lone wolf has found its pack again. They are alive, and they are calling for her.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

Shadows surround her, a thousand men looking at her with expressionless faces. And everything suddenly stands so clear. She curses the day the Red God found her. She remembers a dream she used to have at Kings Landing, when she was just a child. A dream of a castle with blood walls she was trapped into. It was all a sign. That dream, the deaths, what Syrio Forell had told her... and she curses herself for never having paid attention to all those signs.

Now that the Red God has his bride, the guild is not willing to let her go. They think it's the only way to stop the massacre. They are wrong. The massacre never stops.

A shadow stands in front of her and blocks the first attack against her, throwing the dead man to the floor. Arya recognises him as the man who has made her who she is. Again, she's taken aback by surprise. Jaqen looks at her and smiles.

"What do we say to the God of Death?" he asks. And she answers.

"Not today."

"Go now, Sônonûmio. Run." She does.

A bloodbath runs through the House of Black and White, and Jaqen pays for his treason with death. Arya runs until two strong hands strike from behind a column and press a handkerchief to her nose. She struggles, but the venom is potent and she falls into oblivion.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

She wakes up on the featherbed of what seems to be a House of Pleasure of Braavos. Her head is spinning around. She acts by reflex, looking for Needle on her belt. Panic strikes her again when she doesn't find her.

"A girl has the wolf-girl's sword." She hears a voice talking to her in Valyrian. A voice she recognises so well.

"Waif..." She mutters. She gets up, dragging with her a knife she's got amongst her undergarments, and strikes her. The waif gets up from her chair and stops the knife with Needle. Arya takes advantage of the waif's lack of strength and pushes her back on her chair. The waif stops it from falling putting one foot down the chair's leg.

"A wolf-girl is not thinking," She mutters. "As usual." Arya pushes her further. "If this girl wanted to harm you she would have given you to the guild." Arya stops, and looks into the waif's eyes. After a few minutes she backs away and allows the waif to sit down correctly. The waif sighs, one can tell she's not been trained to kill, but she does know how to defend herself.

"You helped me?"

"A wolf-girl is too noisy, she would have been found eventually. This girl, on the contrary, knows every secret passage of the temple."

"And why did you have to poison me?" the waif lets out a laugh. The first and last laugh Arya will ever see in that gaunt face of hers.

"Would a wolf-girl had trusted this girl if she told her to follow?" Arya bites her lip.

"No." They stay silent for a minute. "What happened to the man who defended me?" No answer, and whether that silence was a negation or a confirmation of her fears, she is torn apart by it.

* * *

I forgot to add some parts and had to edit the text three times... I'm a genious...

***** **Sônonûmio=** Pearl of winter (nûmio (pearl) is also strongly related to the term (nûmâzma= meaning, essence, the truth of it) you'll later see why that names is important to Arya.)

And... yes... there's a lot of weird visions in here but I will explain them all, I promise! And sorry to all the ShireenxRickon lovers or the people who don't like (or don't care) about Shireen, I just have a thing for characters like her so in this fic she'll become... lets say... important? yeah, I think so.

And just so you know, but it's not official yet, I'm planning to add pairings like **SanxSan** (T-T) **ShireenxBran **(not that intense either cause they are children) **BriennexJaime** will be there too, and just maybe a little **DanyxJon**. Yes, don't worry, it won't be DanyxJon completely, cause dear Jorah (king of the Friendzone) will be there too: **DanyxJorah** probable! And **Robb Stark's Child**!


	3. Part III

Thank you! You encourage me so much I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

So, in case you were wondering, no... english is not my mother tongue, but I've aproved the Cambridge and with a high percentage... I now I now it's not enough... ¬¬ so, going back to the story... I'm gonna stop with the predictions just for some time, because if I keep writting them (and trust me I've got a huuuuge amount of them XD) the story will get overelaborated... so uhm... I hope you are liking it so far (=.

In this chapter, there's not much of Arya (sorry) but there's **Dany, Tyrion** and **Jon** (=. Melissandre's part was a bit exagerated I know... but I had to kill her... that's the sacrifice of a red priestess who has messed it all since the beggining ¬¬.

LenaLeon: de hecho si lei tu primer review jaja pro m olvide d respondert (= perdon. Gracias! me alegra q t guste la historia hasta donde esta (= en realidad si estoy siguiendo el canon, incluyendo la "muerte" de Sandor. En este tema en mi historia voy a cambiar a una de las mas locas teorias que he leido acerca de su muerte, una teoria que dice que Sandor y el Perro son como dos alter-egos del mismo hombre y que a lo que el Hermano Mayor de Isla Tranquila se referia cuando dijo que el Perro habia muerto era a que la personalidad asesina de Sandor habia muerto y que lo que quedaba era un novicio que parecia ser el mismo encapuchado que cavaba tumbas en Isla Tranquila, al cual por coincidencia un perro se acerco a olerle la mano... suena loco, jajajaja verdad? pro George R.R. Martin es un demente y puede que si sea... bueno, espero que disfrutes la historia y este capitulo! Un beso y gracias! (=

* * *

**Queen of love and beauty**

·

**Part III: Drought shall ravage the east, when the brightest sun rises in the West**

**·**

_Drought shall ravage the east, when the brightest sun rises in the West. Rocks shall turn into leaves flying across the river's end._

·

**Drought shall ravage the east**

·

"You are good with that." He tells her. She releases another arrow out of frustration, before lowering the crossbow and looking at him. The arrow hits its target clean and perfect.

"Really?" she says with an ironic voice that shocks him.

"Yes." And he means it this time, but she's not quite sure.

"You've lied to me so many times. So keep lying, maybe that'll get you somewhere. Casterly Rock could be?" Penny spits with anger and Tyrion knows better to leave her be, before she shoots a perfect arrow in the middle of his eyes.

She's found out quite eventually. From the moment they joined the Second Sons she knows of his lies to the captains, telling them all they want to hear. _Of_ _course, you would never lie to me like that, right?_ She has asked him and he has nodded. Then she learned the truth about what happened in Daznak's Pit... she hasn't talked nicely to him since, but he has heard her sob quietly at night.

"She's angry at you." Jorah whispers to him one night. "And this time, you do care."

"Don't misunderstand the situation, she's just like a daughter to me."

"As you wish to call it. Maybe she could be your light, Tyrion." He snorts. _Talking to the man who's so desperately trying to melt the heart of a diamond queen._ "You can pretend your mistakes count for nothing, my lord Lannister, but they leave holes and this holes grow bigger, and bigger, until one falls to his doom."

"Talking about holes, Ser Jorah? Perhaps it's time you visit a brothel." Tyrion gets up and walks until he approaches the little figure of the female dwarf. He lies next to her and sneaks an arm to squeeze her neck, pulling her closer to him.

"I'm sorry." He whispers in her ear.

"Why did you do it?"

"Guess I just wanted to protect you."

"Like a child?" she snorted, "I'm not a child, Tyrion."

"Sometimes you act like one!" she remains silent for a few minutes, and then starts to sob again. He wants to slap her and tell her to stop, but cannot bring himself to.

"It's like you said, an act." The declaration shocks him. "The praying, the laughing, the innocence… an act."

"Why?" he asks, and he has to wait so long for her to respond, that he loses all hope.

"What else do I have, if not the curtain of a theatre and the illusion that I'm living another life? What else is there for us, if not to live of lies? You think I believe the Gods exist? Of course I don't. I just pray to them to make myself believe someone up there is trying to help me." She turns around to look at him in the eye. "When does it end Tyrion? This game of lies?" he swallows and tries to answer there is no end. But he cannot, because now he can see the end of it.

"For me, it ends with you." He says. Penny looks at him unsure. Silence. First time a situation with a woman leaves him speechless. And he doesn't even know why. Penny is such an annoying, stupid thing. But he is so grateful to her. In some way, her stupid innocence has kept him alive. He could have become a beast, an animal, but he always found his way to restrain himself, as if not to hurt her. It's something no other woman has managed to do before; to steady the beast, and bring out the caring man. He kisses her cheek and she snuggles close to him. She doesn't try to kiss him this time and he's grateful for that. He whispers "Thank you" into her ear.

**·**

**oo0oo**

**·**

Tyrion falls to his knees in front of a giant dragon with bronze and green scales. The beast looks into his eyes, and he's frozen in front of it. Sweat, blood and fire entwine on the floor, smoke arises from the pyres lit around them. Meereen is burning, and he is cornered between his enemies and the beast.

An enemy soldier approaches the dwarf, ready to stab him in the heart. He hears a female scream his name, but he cannot move. From the corner of his eye, he sees Penny run to him. She covers his body with hers, and the sword pierces her heart. Tyrion screams in pain and anger, and then he sees it.

The dragon spiting his fire on the soldier's back. The man screams as he is roasted completely: his sword, red steel in Penny's chest as he burns to ashes. The dragon breaks free from its chain and attacks. Its fire burning the enemy lines, as the men run for their lives.

"Brace yourselves! The dragon is free!"

_Nissa Nissa, strip your chest and remember I love above all._

Tyrion clings to the lifeless body, his tears fall on the flaming steel, and smoke arises from the ashes of the burned soldier. "I love you more than anything in this world." He whispers, and pulls the sword from her chest, it is still burning, but it doesn't even harm his hands. He crosses the firewalls; the flames burn his hair, but not his skin. He faces the great dragon, and this one bows his head to him. Tyrion turns one more time, one last look at the female dwarf's corpse, and he climbs the beast.

The whole Meereen watches a small man mounted on a giant beast, emerging from the flames and burning the ranks of the Sons of the Harpy to ashes.

_In this hideous hour, a warrior shall pull a burning sword from the fire._

·

**When the brightest sun rises in the west**

·

"Azor Ahai is alive." She whispers as she recalls the vision; a burning golden gryphon walking across a sea of burning grass. She looks at the hooded figures in front of her; red priests of Asshai, waiting for her to approach them. She turns to Khal Jhaqo and gives him a final nod.

Khal Jhaqo returns the gesture. He has never really liked the Silver Queen, but now, he recognises she is the Great Stallion who will mount the world. He's seen her power, watched her put her hands on the burning fire and come unharmed.

"What will happen to this land?" Daenerys asks him in Dothraki. "What will happen, now that drought is ravaging it?"

"We have lived droughts before. Droughts that lasted for years, and we survived. The cities may fall and burn, but us, Dothraki, were born in drought, and we will survive." _Just like in Westeros, where winter shall last for years._ She thinks.

She rides with Drogon, away from the khalasar; Khal Jhaqo watches her leave for a moment, and then turns back to the steppe he came from.

·

**oo0oo**

·

"Azor Ahai is alive, his sword you have forged, born in blood and salt and smoke, the three headed dragon will bring down the dark forces of winter. Shall you succeed, Westeros can survive; a blue flower will grow from a chink on a wall of ice, and fill the air with sweetness as darkness avoids it's path."

"And which one of us is Azor Ahai?"

"Azor Ahai is not one single man. For one man cannot survive winter if he's not with his pack."

"His pack?" she asks. "I've seen a burning wolf, and a golden gryphon. Are they my pack?"

"They shall be your candles, but not your pack. This is not your battle to fight, but if you don't help them, they shall not survive." Dany is confused by the priestess's words. "There's one dragon still caged, that dragon must find his father before he can be destroyed."

"I left two dragons chained in a vault under the city of Meereen."

"The beast of spring-fire is already gone. The gryphon has taken it. Fear not for your child, Silver Queen, he's with his father. Now the winter beast must find its brother and you shall be their bond."

"Could he be my cousin Aegon?"

"Aegon son of Rhaegar, controlled by a puppeteer, is not the one you are looking for."

"Then who?"

"His name is winter, and you shall love him like you loved no one. But don't stay with him, for your love is poison, and it runs inside your blood right towards his heart. Just remember, if he dies, the wolves will separate again and winter wont be stopped." Dany looks into the priestess eyes, unable to understand her words. She grows more confused and worried with time, she was hoping the priests of Asshai could give the answer, but they have left her with more questions than before. "You'll find every answer to your questions on your path. Ships are coming from across the narrow sea, those who are fleeing winter. Those who are strong enough will stay and live, until the lights of summer return. You have to go, Dragon-Queen, you have to save your land from the greatest snowfall. And once it's over you shall return here."

The priestess inhales hard and takes Dany's hand. She starts singing in low tones; some chant that makes Dany's blood run cold and her heart beat faster inside her chest. Fire, red fire, starts boiling on the floor, building a wall around them.

**·**

**oo0oo**

**·**

Melissandre's scream of pain is so strong, that the men back away thinking it will crack the moon.

_Nissa Nissa, give your heart, your time has come for you to complete your sacrifice._

"The red priestess is bleeding!" one of the men shouts, she falls to the floor blood is running down her cheeks and bare legs, Ramsay Bolton turns to her.

"Well, look at that! Isn't that Jon's whore!" he walks to the woman, as she lays on the floor in extreme pain and suffering. She looks at the corpse lying on the platform, ready to be exhumed. _I was wrong this whole time. Jon, I'm sorry. I should have known._

"Light the pyre! Light it now!" Ramsay screams as he frowns at her frenetic howls.

"She needs to be healed!"

"Are you trying to distract me, bitch? So that I wont burn your lover alive? Too bad." Ramsay whispers in her ear. "Light the pyre and throw her to the flames! Now!" none of the men obey his order, the man who holds the torch looks torn between helping the woman and burning his captain's body. "You miserable idiots!" Ramsay walks to the man, takes the torch from his hand and throws it to the branches, lightening the fire around Jon Snow's body. The men howl in pain and horror, Ramsay draws his sword and slays the man's throat open, another scream coming from the crows witnessing the scene. "You shall decide for yourselves where your loyalty lays. Marsh! Take this woman and throw her to the fire!"

Marsh takes her with shaky hands and helps her on her feet. Ramsay watches, a sadist smile on his lips, as the red woman is lead to the pyre.

"Push her!" he orders.

"I wont! I wont harm a woman!" Ramsay's sadist smile widens.

"More blood for me…" Melissandre reacts and hits Marsh as hard as she can, but for some reason her whole energy has been drained from her. She looks at Ramsay.

"You shall burn for your crimes!" she whispers with anger. Ramsay looks at her with mockery.

"And you… shall learn to keep your twisted predictions to yourself."

"You can't!" Ramsay pushes Melissandre to the flames. She screams as the fire burns her tunic, starting to melt the skin of her legs.

_Nissa Nissa, draw the sword from the fire. Give your blood and the warrior of light shall be born from smoke and salt._

A figure rises from the flames, pushing the priestess's body away from the fire. The men gasp in horror and Ramsay turns around, unbelieving. Marsh runs to the Red Woman and strips her of her tunic, before it burns her till death. He covers her with his arms and backs away from the fire. The burning man walks to Ramsay, gripping his fingers around his neck. A terrible scream pierces the air, as Ramsay starts to blaze. The crows cover their eyes with the back of their hands to prevent the light from leaving them blind.

"I cannot believe my eyes." One of them says. Ramsay falls to his knees dead, his burned body covered in a dense cloud of smoke. Fire extinguishes and the men finally see their captain. Jon Snow, alive, with a red sword firm in his hand. His clothes and hair have been burned, but he's intact.

"The defeater over Death. The Unburnt." Melissandre says. They all fall to their knees in front of their leader.

_And the one who wields it shall be Azor Ahai reborn, and darkness shall avoid his path._

**·**

**Rocks shall turn into leaves**

·

Arya walks across the bloody halls. Many servants are there, cleaning the blood from the battle. She wonders why they haven't captured her, or even gone looking for her, as she didn't seem to have left for at least three days. She finds herself facing a man she knows all too well. He has no face left, just a skull in his h"ead's place.

"Ah, the girl has come back."

"I won't stay for long. Just came to recover something."

"The girl is a wolf again." Arya looks at him in suspicion.

"Why didn't you follow me? Will you attack me again?"

"It wasn't a man's decision what happened the other day. If we can avoid a life from being lost, then we better do it. It is not for us to hold you here against your will." He brushes her left cheek with his thumb. "But listen lovely girl, only death may pay for life. The Red God wants you, and you shall suffer and fall hard if you don't want him to have you."

"Shall he kill my family?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you can prove to the many faced god that you are worthier, which you definitely are."

"And what shall I do to prove that to him?"

"There is one man who shall die, so that you and your family are free. One man only, and you shall know him when you meet his eyes."

Arya is uncertain of the Kindly Man's words. She saw him looking apologetically while shadows surrounded her, not doing anything. Bitterness overtakes her again as she remembers the events that unfolded that night.

"What happened to the man who stood up for me?" the Kindly Man is turning to leave, but he shoots her one last look.

"The man of blood is dead."

"There was no body."

"Don't look too deep, child. Let it have an end for both." He vanishes, leaving her with the question on her lips. _Are you really dead my love? There is no death for you and me_.

·

**Flying across the river's end**

·

Winter is approaching the Valley and people have to leave their fear aside and prepare. Among the chaos of not knowing what to do, Alayne Stone takes control of the situation, making the knights give their best horses to carry old men and women, children and sick people. The youngest men and women carry their supplies on their backs. Everyone has to work, even her. No more privileges for lords and highborn people, as winter will strike them all in the same circumstances if they don't approach the warmest part of the Valley quickly.

Petyr laughs at Sansa's new behaviour.

"We all thought you were a little bird, you've become an eagle." He says to her. "When did that change take place?"

"When I realized that little birds die in their cages." She says to him and walks a few steps away. Petyr can feel her ice, the same ice he felt coming from her mother once. _She may have her temper, but she won't escape me this time. _He thinks. Then he realizes she's just a child. _Oh, perhaps, but she has the strength of a woman._

As Alayne walks to her little Robert and takes his hand to comfort him, she turns her head and sees a large, hooded figure far away from where she is, but still very visible. It seems to be a man, following the caravan, two dogs on either side of him, his hooded head turned to look in their direction, more like in her direction. She stops and looks closely, still holding Robert's hand. The hooded figure turns around, followed by both dogs, and disappears.


	4. Part III2

Keeeeeeeeep the good mood... (= this chapter comes with puuuure **GendryxArya** (=

And maybe some other pairing, if you find out which one it is (;

Short, but still in time, I'm not so inspired, so don't expect miracles (=

* * *

**Queen of love and beauty**

·

**Part III: Drought shall ravage the east, when the brightest sun rises in the West**

**·**

**Queen of love and beauty**

_ ._

A hooded figure arrives at Crossroads Inn, not driving much attention. She orders a warm meal and sits on a table already occupied by men. Silence fills the whole table as she uncovers her head, revealing a good-looking face, eyes blue as the night's sky and blonde, curly hair. She seems not to mind the attention she's receiving and eats in silence, until one of the men sits by her side and looks at her, questioning. She looks back without a flinch in her eyes.

"The roads are dangerous for such a good-looking girl travelling alone, m'lady." A silent laugh crosses the table. Only two of them stay silent, a handsome lad with deep blue eyes, and a broad shouldered, innocent-looking man.

"This girl is not a lady. And you'd be wise to stay out of her way." She says coolly. Her slight bravoosi accent makes the man grin. Everyone has heard sometime about bravoosi women of pleasure.

"Are you a Bravoosi? Rare thing to see in these lands..." another chuckle. "Are you a courtesan? I have some gold coins; I could pay you for your... services. Sure... it depends on your abilities... what kind of abilities you have?" she smiles at him. Not a nice smile, a daring, threatening smile.

"Does a man want to find out? Want to get a few minutes alone with this girl? She's gotten a few minutes alone with other men, shame; they are all dead and cannot tell you about their courtesan's abilities. But she can do it alone. So, does a man want to find out?" her icy tone makes all the guests in the table shiver and the man backs away.

"I just... wanted to talk, m'lady..."

"Enough, Mattock!" the boy with the deep blue eyes gets up. They all stare at him, even the pretty girl. "You've offended the lady."

"I said I'm not a lady." She looks at him fiercely and for a moment he thinks he has seen that look in another girl's eyes. He shakes the thought away. _You're starting to see her in every woman you meet, Gendry, _he tells himself.

"I'm sorry... ma'am, you just took us by surprise." The girl remains silent. "If you could... tell us... what your business is, here, in this table... otherwise, I'd suggest you didn't get close to men like the ones sitting here. They haven't learned how to behave... in front of proper women." Silence is growing awkward with every second that passes. But she seems not to mind, she's looking at him with a nice smile on her pink lips.

"You've grown to become a gentleman, Ser." She says. The comment leaves him speechless and confused, as well as the other men on the table. "I'm looking for a blacksmith named Gendry, The Bull, whatever. I believe you may know him... very well..." some men turn to look at him, wondering how in the seven hells a simple blacksmith like him may know a bravoosi woman like her. Some others stay with their gazes down, afraid they may reveal the identity of their friend to a woman who's just threatened them so badly. Gendry is still shocked, but he reacts with a careful look.

"May I ask you... who you are... before I can give you that answer?" her smile doesn't fade away. She answers quickly.

"You may call me... Acorn." The name rings a bell in Gendry's mind, and he suddenly remembers. _I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns!_ She gets up from her sit and walks to stand in front of him.

He raises a hand at her and touches her face, still thinking his mind is playing him some nasty trick. This isn't how Arya looked like; this isn't how she would look like. Many times he's imagined her all grown up, and this is not the way she would look like. She'd be more beautiful, much more beautiful, and pale, with silver moonlight eyes and dark hair, like the night or like the brawn bark of an oak tree. Arya takes his hand in hers and gets closer to him, kissing his cheek and hugging him.

"Arya... " He whispers so the others won't hear, and feels her nod as she plays with his hair. "You are not Arya. Arya had black hair and grey eyes. Arya had a northern ladylike accent and..." he pushes her away. "You are not her!" Something in her expression changes, she looks surprised and wounded at the same time.

"Gendry, you bloody fool! Don't tell me you are still the same idiot as three years ago!" a silent, almost frightened chuckle runs across the table again. Suddenly Gendry realizes he is in the presence of other men.

"I'm sorry, you just..."

"I know." She widens her eyes as if giving him a warning, and then moves them to the men in the table. Gendry realizes she wants to talk to him alone later. And whether she is or is not Arya, he feels like he has too. "Won't you introduce me to your friends?" she asks nicely this time. Gendry hesitates and looks at the men on the table, who seem rather a little scared.

"S-sure..." he says. "This one's Ralph..." he points to a man with a blonde moustache, who gives a quick bow with his head. "Barth Shovelhands" a young boy with red curls "Strider the Orphan"

"Ma'am..." the boy with black, big eyes answers.

"Rodor the Bear" he signals at a dark haired man with wide shoulders and beautiful, blue eyes. For a moment Arya doubts whether if he's an actual man or just a woman dressed as a man.

"Rykor Silverhair..."Gendry points at a middle-aged man with silver strands of hair who painfully reminds her of Jaqen. "And Mattock... who... you already met." The young man cradles to her feet and begs for her pardon, which she reluctantly concedes. Later she finds out he's never had luck with women, not even willing whores. "Which is understandable, giving the fact that he's pretty ugly." Gendry states and they all laugh openly now.

**.**

**ooOoo**

**.**

They spend the rest of the evening talking about the political situation of Westeros. The girl pushes the topic every time someone tries to drop it. She inquires about the Lannister situation on the throne, the Greyjoy rebellion and the Bolton retaliation that followed this tragic event. Gendry sees the expression of pain she quickly hides as she hears about the youngest Stark's death and the mysterious marriage of Arya Stark to Ramsay Bolton, which gave him the right to become the next lord of Winterfell.

"They say, however, he's been dead since long before he could reclaim it." Ralph says.

"Then who is Winterfell's new lord?" fear seems to run across every man's blood.

"It's not known, for even the Valley has lost communication with the northern lands... however... we've heard rumours..." Strider whispers.

"About a burning man... with a sword made of red steel... I've even heard he ordered the men of the Nightswatch to pierce and open the Wall so that the wildlings could get in." Shovelhands interrupts him.

"How long ago do you presume Bolton died?"

"A year or so must be..."

"We don't know for sure."

"Then these rumours may be false."

"Yes, but it's the best we know."

"What about the Lannister's forces? You said Jaime Lannister took Harrenhall again?"

"And Raventree Hall, and Riverrun. They say Lady Stoneheart sent someone to kill him, but he's still pretty much alive..." they all stay silent after Strider's statement. Rodor the Bear has a weird expression in his features, as if he is caught between fear and pride.

"Do any of you stand for the Lannisters?" Acorn inquires noticing it.

"Lannisters, Starks, Freys, who cares? They are all the same..." Silverhair responds.

"Well, I preferred the Starks, those were the honest ones. Lannisters took everything from us and Freys... they just care about themselves."

"People die of hunger everyday beyond the walls of their castles and all they can do is fighting each other! Bah!" Shovelhands says. "Lords of Westeros are useless." Silence invades the table again.

"Jaime Lannister is a good man." Rodor suddenly says. They all stare at him. "He's done whatever is in his power to end this war and bring peace to the land."

"On his own interests of course." Acorn answers. "Lannisters deserve to die."

"Not all of them!" Rodor suddenly snaps, and this time Acorn thinks she's heard the hint of a female tone in his raspy voice. She eyes him with a venomous look, to which he doesn't flee.

"Rodor always stands by Jaime Lannister's side, Acorn, but don't worry, he's too low born to be one of his knights anyway." Gendry says trying to lift the tension between the female and his friend.

"This... Stoneheart Lady or... whatever..." Acorn changes the topic. Another chill seems to run trough everyone's backs.

"Mother Merciless... The Hangwoman..."

"Shut it Ralph! If one of her men hears you, you'll end up being hanged!" Silverhair warns him. They all close the circle around the man and he starts. "She used to be the loving mother of five children... but then her husband was executed, her daughters kidnapped. She trusted her eldest son would avenge the family and her daughters would return to her. But then she was forced to see his son's beheading with her own eyes, before her own throat was cut open and she was thrown naked to the river." Gendry looks at Acorn's widened eyes. She knows who it is.

"Was it...? Was it Lady...?"

"Stark! Yes, of course! That she was! But now she's just... a monster... all her sons have been killed, and there is nothing left for her than to kill more people as a payment."

"But her daughters... her daughters might still be alive..." Acorn is trying so hard to remain calm. Silence fills the room again as the men think about her idea.

"I don't think finding one of her daughters, or even the two of them if she was lucky, will do better" Rodor suddenly intervenes. "She could have her own daughter hanged or eaten by wolves and she wouldn't even care. She's no longer Catelyn Tully, she's..." silence.

"A monster." Acorn finishes, looking directly into Rodor's eyes. Something tells her Rodor knows what he's talking about.

"There are things in this life... things like watching your own son's beheading... that are far worse than death." Rodor finishes.

"You got that right." Acorn says.

**.**

**ooOoo**

**.**

They sleep in the same bed that night. She's changed into her real face and watched Gendry's blank expression. She thinks it's because of her new ability, and in part, that's true, in part, it's not.

"You'll have to get used to it. In the morning, I'll change back to my former face."

"I will, m'lady." He says, and she eyes him with a murdering gaze that makes him want her even more.

She looks just as he has imagined her. Beautiful; silver eyes like the moonlight, her skin a little tanned by the bravoosi sun, her hair, long dark strands falling in a cascade to her hips. Her body is lean and small and muscular, but her swelled breasts and the way her waist narrows and widens at her hips fill him with filthy desire for the first time in his life.

They talk in whispers, as if they were afraid of being caught; share their experiences, their lives. Things they both have missed about the other, and he wonders if he will ever be able to forgive himself for leaving her. Fairest, cold woman, laying just a few inches away from his body, desperately making his blood boil.

Where have they been, all this time? Here, there, nowhere; estranged from each other, following paths that have made them foreigners. She has changed, and he can feel it in the coldness of her voice, in the bitterness she tries to hide, in the smell of blood contained in her skin. He wonders again, how many she has killed. How many she has kissed and touched; how many she has belonged to.

"Too many." She answers as if she could hear his thoughts. "One."

"One man you've loved?" His voice is filled with pain and anger, but she doesn't even notice. She doesn't respond. He gulps and gives a chance to chance. "Arya... I've been knighted; Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill." He hears her chuckle.

"So you've become a stupid outlaw knight. You have yet to get hanged." He smiles.

"I don't expect that to happen, any sooner." She looks at him as her slim fingers make a move to stroke his black hair. He doesn't turn to her; in fear that if he does, he might lose all control he has over himself.

"Me neither." She whispers. "Stupid boy." She turns her head away from him as she hears steps coming down the hall. They disappear, and she sighs in relief.

"I could follow you, as your knight, m'lady... I'd swear to protect you, obey you, die for you if need be." She doesn't answer too quickly and for a moment Gendry thinks she will accept his offer. She just turns her back to him.

"I am not your lady. And you don't need to serve a lady in order to be a knight." She's refused him, and for a moment, his mouth tastes like bittersweet defeat. He also turns his back to her and tries to get to sleep, as far from her body as he can as if not to fall in the temptation of touching her.

She stays awake for the rest of the night, thinking. How many did she kill? How many did she love? A man of many faces and many faces that formed one god. _I don't want to be his bride anymore. _She says to herself, and struggles to remember the names on her list._ Ilyn Payne, Queen Cersei, Meryn Trant, Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, the Freys..._ she stops, forgetting her prayers. And starts to pray for those she wants to see again, those she came back for. _Mother, Jon, Bran, Rickon, Sansa, Nymmeria, Hot Pie, Gendry... Winterfell._


	5. Part IV

**Queen of love and beauty**

·

**Part IV: Men shall fight like they were born to die**

**·**

_Winter is coming, and men shall fight like they were born to die_

.

She wakes up in the middle of the night with a certainty that something really bad is about to happen. She rises from the bed careful not to wake Gendry up and with her catlike agility she slides out of the window into the cold night. She climbs to the roof of the inn and listens.

The sounds of the night, wind blowing the leaves of the trees, owls hooting, a wolf pack howling to the moon not so far from there. Arya thinks she recognizes one of those voices, but she cannot know for sure. The memory lays buried deep into her mind, and she cannot bring it out yet. Suddenly, another noise catches her attention.

_Horses; more than ten; riding fiercely in the inn's direction_. And they don't seem to want to stop. _Looting_ She thinks, and her heart starts beating faster in her chest. The men in the inn are no warriors; she's seen them earlier at the dinner table; simple farmers or countrymen who might never have used a sword in their whole life. Arya thinks of the blood spill that will run through the tavern if a legion attacks it. Young men, old men, murdered, women raped, children caught by fire, soldiers laughing at the massacre; boys taken as prisoners to be tortured and forced to work on the fortresses, girls taken to be soldier's whores... she remembers Harrenhall... Loomy's and Joren's death. _Not today._

"Gendry!" she comes back to the room and to a snoring Gendry. "Gendry! Wake up!" he wakes up startled.

"What's going on m'lady...?"

"They're going to sack the Inn."

"What?!"

"They're going to sack the Inn, Gendry, so we have to get as many people as we can out of here! Is there any town or village in the surroundings? We have to take them there!"

"Hold on, Arya, just... calm down..." she grabs his face with sudden roughness.

"Gendry, we need to hurry! Don't ask questions, just... just trust me now." Her face is filled with fear and he knows this is one of the most serious things she's asked him, and he's not going to let her down this time.

So he nods and gets up.

**.**

**0ooOoo0**

**.**

The whole inn complains as Acorn's and Gendry's shouts are heard around the corridor. Men and women get out of their room, still dressed in their nightclothes. One of them stops Gendry.

"What in the seven hells lad? People tryin to sleep in this fackin place!"

"There's an army heading towards here right now, they plan to sack the inn!"

"Sack the inn? No one has tried to sack this inn for years!" one of the women who own the inn, Willow Heddle, shouts.

"They are going to do it now." People start to panic at Gendry's statement, Acorn sees Rodor from the corner of her eye and her suspicions of him being a woman are confirmed. She has that look in her eyes, the look of fear only a woman can have. She murmurs something quietly, but Acorn's ears hear. "Lady Stoneheart" she said.

"Everybody shut the fuck up!" Acorn's scream causes the whole place to fall into silence. Acorn gulps, trying to control her own fear. She doesn't fear for her life, but for the others. "How many men in here know how to fight?" a couple men raise their arms, Gendry among them. They are hardly any, counting her. "Now, there is a chance we can escape this place and reach a neighbour village in time. It's not too late, but we must hurry!" men and women start to move. "Leave everything behind, take only what's necessary! Every man and woman, who feels like fighting, grab a stick, an axe, anything that can help you!"

In the middle of the running, Acorn reaches Rodor and grabs his (her) arm.

"You, lady, listen to me. I need you to protect this people. With Gendry." The woman's eyes widen.

"I'm sorry?"

"You may fool them, but not me." The woman stays silent. "What's your real name?" Rodor gulps, insecure.

"I'd rather not say it."

"That's all right." Acorn lets go of the air in her chest. "I know you are brave, I can see it in your eyes. You defied her, and she wants you dead. Gendry protected you, so that's why you're hiding here... dressed as a man." A moment of silence between both women. "If they find you here, you and Gendry will be executed. You know that, right?" Rodor nods. "Run with the rest of the people. There's a village, not so far north, guide them there. By sunrise, you'll be safe; the army won't attack the countrymen in there. I'm going to stay here and fight. You say the men from Lady Stoneheart are coming, is that right?"

"They're going to kill you."

"They might... promise me you'll protect them." Rodor looks at the mob that moves among them.

"I will." Acorn nods.

They all go down the stairs, armed with sticks and metallic junk; nothing very helpful at the time of a sword fight.

"Is there another way out besides the main door?" Acorn asks one of the inn keepers.

"There's another one in the kitchen yard." Jeyne says.

"Take them there. Everyone to the kitchens!" as people starts to walk towards it, Acorn hears the sound outside.

Heavy boots walking silently in the surroundings of the tavern, she gulps.

"They've found us, lass?" one of them says. Rodor and Gendry look at Acorn and she gives them a look that says they have.

"Nobody goes!" she shouts in silence "Hide the children, now." Children are put inside barrels and cupboards, which shall burn for sure. "And stand your feet. If we die, we die like men, not rats."

People nod with sudden courage in their features. They all bank up in the middle of the hall, facing the main door. The footsteps are heard clearly now, they can feel each other's fear, the silent breathing and trembling of each and every single person in there.

A sudden bump on the door, as if someone was trying to knock it. They all jump, eyes fixed on the wooden doors. Another bump, and then another, and another. Wood splinters fall across the floor, the metal hinges start to give in.

Silence; and then a burst of force that makes the wooden doors crash and fall.

"Fight like you were born to die!" Acorn's scream of war fills the men with courage as they face up the enemy.

The battle is fierce; although at the beginning there's no butchering. As Lady Stoneheart's men see the countrymen fierceness, they start to kill. Many men fall, men who didn't even knew how to fight.

Gendry sees from the corner of the eye as one of the men knocks Rodor down. The man falls to the earth with a deep cut in his leg, as the soldier grabs his hair and pulls his face close to him.

"Brienne of Tarth, Lady Stoneheart will be pleased to see you!" The woman tries to hit him, but is hit back and pushed against the floor.

"Please, don't take me to her!" the man is taken by his elbows and pushed away from her. Gendry puts his sword in his face.

"High treason to the brotherhood, boy!"

"I do not take my orders from a murderer!" the man takes his sword and swings it against the blacksmith.

Gendry stops the knock with his owns, and tries to strike. He fails, and after a few effortless attempts he's slain across the chest and falls to the earth with a mighty scream. Acorn witnesses, she stops the other man's blow to his chest and strikes him to get him away from wounded Gendry. _You're not thinking._ He swings his sword at her; she dodges the punch and dances to his back, slaying his spine. Another man approaches Gendry and this time Brienne stands in front of him. Arya runs to them, _you are not thinking! _A voice in the back of her head warns her, but it's too late, she's slain across the spine by the same man she wounded, she falls to her knees, unwilling to give up. The pain in her back makes her grunt and cry, she tries to stand and strike the man in front of her, but her vision is blurry and she fails, the man is quicker and punches her face, making her fall to the floor and almost faint, she cannot get up. As the man from behind her raises his sword to her chest, Brienne has caught the other man and has a knife against his neck.

"You kill her... and I kill him." The man looks at Arya, then at Brienne, and then lowers his sword.

"You are prisoners anyway. Battle is over, time for Lady Stoneheart's verdict."

"You know very well what her verdict will be..." Brienne is punched in the head by another man, and she falls to his arms, this time with a knife against her throat. The man she threatened turns to her.

"And if you knew... why did you oppose to her?" Brienne clenches her jaw. "You promised her... every single thing that you promised... and you failed her."

"Thoros... you know, you know it's not right..." Thoros knows, but he can't refuse her orders now. His brothers fear Lady Stoneheart more than they respect him. He turns his back to her and focuses it on the others still hanging on the floor. "Take those too... please try to keep the boy alive. And this one... we'll see what becomes of her..."

Thoros is suddenly pale and mute, as are the others. The girl has fainted, and her face starts to change, as if in a conjured spell. Her fine, pale lips become filled and darker, her hair darkens and smoothens; dark, big eyebrows like caterpillars show on her suddenly tanned skin.

"Well, that's the most beautiful girl I've seen in the seven fucking kingdoms." One of them says. The other one looks at Thoros, waiting for an explanation. And Thoros knows it, but he'd be a fool if he gave it away.

"A Scent Hiding Spell; some priest must have done it to her to keep her identity hidden." His lie seems pretty convincing.

"Isn't she one of Lady Stoneheart daughters?" the other one asks with a sudden happy look in his features. Thoros remains silent, looking at her for a while.

"Aye." He says. "Such a rare beauty just like her aunt." The men seem so happy to hear the confirmation. They look at each other with gratification.

"We did it, we found her. Let's present her to the Lady right away."

Thoros is not that convinced. He looks at Brienne, she watches the girl with longing and guilt. "We've killed her before her time." He hears her say._  
_


	6. Part IV2

**Queen of love and beauty**

·

**Part IV: Men shall fight like they were born to die**

**·**

_The Second Wolf has arrived. Fear not, my shadow faced deer._

_**·**_

The next time she sees Jon Snow he saves her from the men who try to execute her. Against all oaths, she's not afraid of him. He's changed, and men are right to fear him. The cold of snow and winter doesn't seem to affect him anymore, and he looks even more frightening because of his broad, bare chest, full of scars of the stabbing betraying knives that killed him once. His grey eyes are burning lights, but they don't seem to carry any life inside them. They are like pearls of winter, a storm unleashing inside them. Sometimes, when he's angry, Shireen could swear they turn into a brutal, bright red, like the colour of blood or like the Red Woman's eyes. The wildlings are the only ones who don't fear him in the slightest. They have sworn their loyalty to him, even much more faithfully now that they've seen his power. Men from different tribes come to ask for mercy at his feet, pleading for a place where they can escape winter and safe their women and children. He's much more merciful with them than he is with his Night's Watch Brothers. Sometimes they call him names, like Star of the Long Night, Defeater over Death, The Pyre of Winter, or "The One with the Wolf inside Him". That last name in particular causes Shireen to shiver a little. She thinks they can see something she and the other men of the Night's Watch can't, the reason of why Jon is still alive.

The Fire Priestess has stopped looking for Stannis, she now worships Commander Snow with all her strange rituals and predictions, which Jon rejects fiercely. He refuses to embrace the religion of the burning god, despite of Melissandre's best efforts.

"A god who gives life but needs sacrifices to satisfy himself;" He spits angrily, "A god of fools and hypocrites."

"The god who gave you a second chance!" Melissandre fights back.

Shireen's mother, Selyse, is angry at the Red Priestess too, for she has stopped believing in her husband as the rightful king. She tries to tell her daughter not to lose faith in her father, not to be convinced by that freezing shadow of Jon's and not to stop embracing the Rh'llor religion.

Yet, Shireen doesn't believe that much in the red god anymore. At night, when she dreams, or even in the sound of wind scratching the walls of ice of Castle Black, the last prison and shelter of the Night's Watch and the Wildlings and the few and last survivors of the North, she can hear her three eyed crow's words, whispering to her what seems to be an ancient, forgotten truth.

"The gods... are in the wind... in the ice, in the movement of clouds above you; in everything you touch and heave. They wear many faces, many names, but they always end up being the same. "

**.**

**0ooOoo0**

**.**

_Cold steel of his own sword against his nape, sending a chill across his back and he feels betrayed once more. _

_The sword lifts from Jaime's neck. The glimpse of beautiful, blue eyes, looking at him with true love, love he's never seen in Cersei's stare._

_"Farewell, ser Jaime."_

_Rush, fear, need. The raw, shocking, beautiful shape of a naked body, bathing in a river; a passionate yet innocent hug, the last they'll ever share. Her bare skin, shivering against his dripping tunic; his blood boiling like valyrian fire. _

_"Don't go back." A soft, pleading whisper against her ear. "Stay with me, Brienne. I'll keep you safe."_

_She looks into his eyes once more, and the answer hits his insides like a stabbing knife._

_Bittersweet words, he promises to never stop loving her. Him and her, two lovers on opposite armies, forced to slaughter each other in order to survive._

Why did she ever refuse to stay with him? Why did he ever let her go?

The answers are still unknown, but she's gone, that's all that matters. He lays awake in his mattress, but sleep seems to never come. His body and head ache with every single breath he takes and he knows she has lost. For she's most likely dead by now, hanged by the Hangwoman, faithful till the end to a merciless stone heart.

Pain turns into anger and hate, it could have been, it could have been meant to be. She should have belonged with him.

Silently into the night, he promises to avenge her. Against who, he doesn't know though. The phantom who took her away is a dead, silent shadow, waiting for him in the dark, filling his heart with fear, making him feel alone even when he's surrounded by his own army.

**.**

**0ooOoo0**

**.**

Cold fingers brush her face and hair, making her wake from slumber. Their texture is too soft and viscous, like worms running through her features. She opens her eyes and looks at the figure standing over her.

What was once a beautiful woman has turned into a spectrum with white, rotten skin. Her eyes are two angry lights in the middle of dark sockets. Her scars are completely open, showing parts of her gray flesh and skull. Loose, rotten flesh hangs from her open neck. Arya recognizes her, for she's been the one who's taken her out of the river..._ Stoneheart... Mother. _She shows nothing, no fear, no disgust, she feels nothing, not even pain at her horrible aspect.

The creature puts a hand under her chin and lets out a drowned, hissing caw. It is barely recognizable as a human voice, but Arya understands.

"My child, my sweet child..." her voice sends chills down her spine, she closes her eyes in pain, as a sudden cold takes over her body, making every wound in it hurt ten times more. "Mother is here... and she's going to hang anyone who tries to hurt you again..."

A man dressed in a red gown appears with a torch in his hand. Arya recognizes him as a man called Thoros of Myr.

"She says..."

"I know... what she said..." Arya whispers weakly. "Mother..."

She lets out a noise, which Arya presumes to be a sad laugh.

"That's my child... my sweet Arya." Her mother lets go of her tick hair and face, and her viscous fingers grabb her hand. "No one shall take her away from me this time..."

Arya gulps and closes her fingers around her mother's hand. Thoros looks at them with grim eyes.

"My lady should let the girl rest. She's still too weak, needs warmth to recover herself." Lady Stoneheart's eyes suddenly express an enormous rage.

"Where is the man who hurt her?" she hisses. Arya's fingers clutch her mother's in desperation. She knows that look; she's seen it in another man's eyes at the time of wanting to kill someone. _No..._

"My lady, he's outside."

"Hang him!" _Mother, don't..._

"But... my lady..."

"I said hang him!" Thoros lets out a sigh.

"You know I shall obey you in everything you say. I'd even give my life for you. But Lim is one of the best men we've got and if he hurt your daughter, believe me, it was unintentional." Stoneheart lets out an angry growl and everyone's blood runs cold. Thoros tries one more time. "Besides, if you start executing your own men, you'll soon have no Brotherhood to fight for you. No one will take the Frey's lives you so fiercely want."

It seems to work, the woman gives up and straightens from her daughter's bed, head held high, letting go from Arya's tight grasp.

"Then it's time for the execution." She hisses. "Bring me the Kingslayer's bitch and her lowborn deserter." Arya's thoughts fill with desperation. She tries to scream and get up, but the hand of Thoros retains her firmly, closing his fingers around her mouth and his arm around her waist and arms to prevent her from moving. Stoneheart walks out of the cave.

"If you want to live, you'll stop right there." He hisses as Arya tries effortlessly to free her arms from him. Thoros thanks Rh'llor that she's still weak. He doesn't want to imagine the horrible future awaiting him was she a complete faceless man. His pleadings are not heard, for Arya is in the deep trance of a fight. "You have your mother back! What else can you ask for?!"

"Gendry! Brienne! You... betrayer... they trusted you!"

"I never betrayed them child!" he shouts, and takes Arya's face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "You did."

"Liar!" she spits, a long moment of silence. "Let me go."

"Your mother's alive. And you've seen her again. You should be happy, Arya, won't you be?"

"She is not my mother." Arya whispers angrily. "She may be inside my mother's corpse, but she's nothing but a monster."

"Careful, bride of death; monsters have many shapes. And you are one of them."


	7. Part V

**Queen of love and beauty**

·

**Part V: The Winter Beast has found it's Lord**

**·**

_We're both the same, mother, corpses roaming the land of the living, causing nothing but pain and destruction, as it all was taken away from us._ She stands in front of Gendry, tightening her grip around his body, impeding anyone from getting close to him. She looks firmly into his mother's horrifyed eyes in hopes that she regains some sense of what she's about to do.

"So, mother... condemn us." Her mother has a stone-expression plastered on her face. But deep down Arya knows her heart is aching. She doesn't regret the pain she's causing inside of Catelyn's chest. She just wants to know wether her mother is still there, buried deep within all that cruelty. As she looks into her eyes, one more time, though, they have become two icy stones.

"Kill her!" she caws.

"No!" Gendry struggles to keep her in his arms, but Arya's taken away from him, with no resistance from her part. She looks at her mother in disbelief. Thoros tried to warn her, Brienne tried to warn her. She didn't listen. But there it is, the proof that her mother is no longer the woman she once met. She's a real monster.

Arya doesn't even hear the boy screams and pleads for her life. She's completely alienated as the men tie the rope to her neck. A pang of bitterness overwhelmes her senses. _Killed by the same person that gave you your life_. But then she remembers she's no longer alive. This war has taken everything away from her. _Then it won't be that bad to finally rest, if such a thing exist for Brides of the Stranger. _

"Hang them! Hang all of them!" her mother barks again. She closes her eyes, knowing the battle against her mother and against herself is lost. She's the only one who doesn't struggle, as Brienne suddenly punches the man holding her in the face and frees herself for a short moment. Members of the Brotherhood take out their swords.

Suddenly, it all stops as a strange sound pierces the air. They all stop and listen, frightened, Arya opens her eyes in disbelief.

"Wolves." a pack of wolves, they surround the Brotherhood's camp, closing a circle around them like a damn fire wall. Winter, it's turned them mad. They have no food left, starved as they are, they've violated the borders of their territory, in search for human preys. Thoros gets in front of his lady, shielding her from any attack.

"There's thousands of them..." Brienne whispers, her voice husky from fear. No one has ever seen nothing like it. Despite of their weapons, they stand no chance against those beasts.

"Nobody move." Thoros commands. They wait in silence, while the wolfes get closer to the camp. One of them knocks a caldron full of broth down and starts eating the bones in it. It distracts him for a while, until he notices Thoros and Stoneheart, slowly backing away, and with a growl he jumps over them. Thoros takes out his sword and skewers the beast in it. The movement is enough to disturb the whole pack, as they ambush the little camp.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

Winter's made the animals turn their looks upon the human folk, in desperate search for preys. For days, crows have surrounded the camp, feasting on the flesh of those who have died frozen or starved. Eagles threaten to attack the younglings, at plain daylight, which forces the bowmen to constantly look at the sky in search for signs of the birds of prey.

One day, while the caravann keeps moving, one of them tries to attack Robert. Alayne is the only one who sees it, and she runs to her protegee warning him with screams, the little boy freezes in fear, and she manages to shield him from the animal with her own body.

Time seems to freeze as the great bird stops its claws centimeters away from Alayne's face. She has the time to run away, but instead she watches, induldged by a strange fascination. The animal stops, centimeters away from her face, and looks at her like it's found its equal. It evades her and rises in the air again, before the arrow of a bowman protecting her pierces its chest.

Robert clings to Sansa's legs as the lifeless animal falls to the ground.

"Are you all right?" he asks. She looks down to him and caresses his locks. Realization strikes her as she makes her way to the men recovering the dead animal from the ground. _It looked into my eyes, as an equal. I'm no longer a little bird. I'm an eagle. The eagle of the Valley._

The animal is skinned, and Sansa conserves the feathers, adorning her cloak with them.

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

Fire, endless fire, burning the army of spectres and coming to him in a heated orange storm. He doesn't fear fire anymore, and as he watches overwhelmed while the army of the Others falls, he turns his gaze upon a majestic creature. The greatest he has ever seen.

A white dragon, looking upon him, rises his wings in the air and lets out a sharp yell that pierces the ears. As the beast lowers its giant head to him, he no longer fears it.

Their eyes connect... and they become one.

_The winter beast has found its father._

**.**

**oo0oo**

**.**

She falls on her back, the giant wolf hovering her, and she acknowledges she's going to die. Gendry runs to her, weapon in hand, but Brienne catches him and stops him.

"It's too late!" she says. And Gendry knows. He watches helpless as the giant wolf shoves his giant fangs, ready to tear Arya apart. Yet, it doesn't.

Arya tries hard to remember, as the moment seems to be completely surreal._ Winterfell, Nymmeria..._

"Nymmeria..." the animal stops growling and fixes yellow eyes on the girl's. _Nymmeria, it's her_...

_The winter beast has found its sister._

The beast jumps back and howls, making the whole pack stop the ambush.

"Kill them!" an arrow lands in the animal's fur, and the enormous direwolf howls in pain. Arya lets out a scream of rage that freezes everyone's blood. Faster than anyone could think possible, she takes the arrow out of the poor animal's skin and with one blow from her musculous arm she throws the arrow at the bowman responsible for Nymmeria's wound. It pierces his head with the accuracy of a bow.

As the dead man falls to his knees, they all look at her in amazement and respect. The whole camp falls silent. Arya looks into her mother's eyes, and for the first time, she sees fear in them.

"Don't you stand there! Kill the wolves! Kill the traitors!" they unwillingly raise their weapons against her, but they let them fall once the whole wolfpack starts to growl at them. Arya's part of their pack now.

"Wolfmother..." Gendry whispers, he tries to kneel, but they keep him on his feet.

"Wolfmother!" Brienne shouts. "Moonlight...!"

A moment of suspense reigns over the camp, before Thoros lowers his weapon to the ground and falls to his knees, much to the surprise of the whole Brotherhood.

"Wolfmother, Moonlight of the Long Night." the action is enough to make all the men drop their weapons at Arya's and Nymmeria's feet and kneel before her. "Moonlight", "Wolfmother", they whisper. And she suddenly feels much more powerfull than she's ever felt before.

_A wolf again. The alpha-wolf. The Wolfmother._


End file.
